


My Life Is Not My Own

by OofBoost



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Keith & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) Friendship, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Mild Language, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 12:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16912932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OofBoost/pseuds/OofBoost
Summary: "We had to change you in to a med suit." Shiro announces and I immediately know what kind of conversation this is going to be and I don't want to have it, "I thought you said you weren't doing it anymore." Shiro reminds me as he looks down at his hands, rubbing them against each other. He references to the one thing he knows I don't want to talk about. God, I don't want to talk about it. I swallow a lump in my throat, not entirely sure how to go about this conversation and losing all the words I thought I once had.-/-Keith never truly knows when to stop; when he's at his end. He also doesn't know the difference between desire and addiction. He's struggling and it's no longer going unnoticed.





	My Life Is Not My Own

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS:  
> This piece of work does include mild language along with implied self-harm. The self-harm is never out right said, but the reader can assume it's the topic of their conversations. If either of these things aren't to your liking then please don't read this work.
> 
> The song included:  
> "Sing Of The Moon" -The Collection

I came to the realization a long time ago that my life is _not_ my own. Although, I'm still trying to figure out what to do with this information. Everything in life was far too complicated for my understanding and even after attempts at dumbing it down I found it confusing. But, one thing was clear; the more you love means the more you can lose. It doesn't mean you will lose anything and everything you love, but it definitely makes the chances higher. Setbacks are painful and even more so when you have so much.

  
There was this professor at the Garrison that would use the comparison between life and a ladder. At first I wanted to zone out at how idiotic it began to sound, but slowly it made more and more sense. If you climb to the first peg of a ladder and no further you haven't made much progress. In fact, you haven't done much at all. You feel insignificant and for good reason. Although, if you were to fall back, the landing wouldn't be painful, just startling. If you don't do much in life and you don't have much either, then your falls won't be that bad. In some ways that's convenient, in other ways it's not. Now, if you were to climb to the very top of that ladder instead, the feeling would be incredible. You're on top of the world and you have so much to be proud of because look how far you've come. It's simply breath taking. The problem is, if you fall, chances are you won't get back up, let alone make it to the top again. You'll crash and burn until there's nothing left but ashes of broken promises. If you accomplish the impossible in life and do all that you intended to do with the life you wanted, then your setback will end up being far more detrimental than any other.

  
With this knowledge I made the decision that the less I had the better off I'd be. I didn't care about life, I cared about surviving and that's perhaps the poorest choice of thought one could make. I had forgotten that my life wasn't my own. How silly I was to think I was in control.

  
_"I've always been told we hold black holes inside."_

  
Training has and forever will be my go to for relief. The stress and strain of my muscles that mix with the burning aches of my skin form some sort of happiness I can't explain. It edges me on to do more and more until I can't. Unfortunately that plays in to the malicious fact of my inability to stop.

  
_"They know from the start that every star must die."_

  
Even if I've passed a training level I tend to go back and attempt to finish it faster, better, perfectly. I've already passed level 3 more times than I can count, but the strong desire and need for perfection has become overwhelming, so I found myself going back to the elementary level once again.

  
_"But it seems too convenient to lose track of time."_

  
My boots squeak against the oddly polished floor with my labored breaths and clashes of weapons designed and used with force. I can let everything out when I train. Anything I've been holding in that day I can finally release and today I had been holding in more than probably deemed healthy.

  
_"Now that you're gone will my orbit unwind?"_

  
I felt everything start hitting me at once. All the exhaustion, hatred, trouble, it was all here at once. My throat felt raw and burned with a sting stringing of a thousand knives. I couldn't breath. It felt as if the air I was taking in wasn't air at all, but in fact fire. But, I couldn't help myself, I needed something. Some sort of relief.

  
The gladiator takes my moment of weakness to its advantage, such a genius move on its part, not so much on my own. The rough hilt of its sword plunges at my back and I tumble on to the floor, face first. Everything seems to be knocked out of my body as I feel nothing and everything at the same time.

  
There's this high pitched ringing in my ears that makes observations and focus beyond my control. I think I can hear something or someone but I'm not quite sure and it could be my mind playing tricks on me. The training room is a blur of colors that I can't make out as it washes across my vision. I can't seem to keep my eyes focused on a single thing and everything slides away.

  
I can't focus on anything besides the ringing in my ears and the pain in my throat. I just want some sort of relief on my throat but it didn't matter how long I searched or how desperate I became, nothing was there.

  
The feeling became too overwhelming as the vertigo caused a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I just wanted the feeling in my throat to be gone. I couldn't handle it anymore. I didn't want to.

  
Gags and dry heaves shivered across my body but nothing came up except rough coughs and strained tears I pushed back helplessly. I winced my eyes shut to avoid any light or dizziness and allowed my body to do as it pleased. Whatever it decided to do must be for the best, who am I to dictate its own job?

  
_"What northern wind blew us into the street?"_

  
I feel a soft hand be placed somewhere on the upper part of me but I couldn't quite pinpoint where. I was pushed carefully on to my back but this didn't seem to help at all. My body made attempts to jerk forward in sync with the heaves and gag, causing my direction to station wayward. Everything was out of my control and at first I accepted that, but suddenly I just wanted to be in control again so I could stop all of this.

  
_"And what fatal one will we all someday meet?"_

  
Someone is placing a cold hand against my forehead and sides of my face and I can't help but lean in to it. There's pushing back of my hair but not in a comforting intentional way, more or so to get a better examination of my state. I feel their other hand grab at my wrist and take off my glove. If I weren't in such a terrible state I would commend them for their ability to do so with a single hand. Their index and middle finger wrap from behind around my wrist as a check for my pulse. The ring finger and pinky are placed softly below my wrist with the thumb on the back of my hand to keep everything sturdy. I know this hold was not meant for comfort but I'd like to imagine it was. Instead of checking my erratic pulse I like to imagine it's my mother or father comforting me on an ill day. How desperate I've become.

  
_"Swept into a palace with no sign of a king."_

  
The hand that was once resting around my face comes down to place against my shoulder, attempting to keep me still and force a sense of calm. Surprisingly, it has some sort of effect as I slowly feel my body die down from its high. Perhaps it was exhaustion, but I didn't care, as long as it was over.

  
_"No court for us jesters, but we like to..."_

  
Now I was left with the aftertaste of a metallic throat pricked lightly by pins and needles. It wasn't ideal but it was definitely more manageable than previously. The ringing in my ears slowly but surely comes to a decision to fade away. It seems to take longer than I'd like, but I'm patient.

  
"-ey?...-eith?Ho-...-eeling?" I can hear snippets and clips of a voice I know I should recognize but don't find the strength to do so. I feel my head roll to the side towards the person as I pry my eyes open with force to get an idea as to what is going on and what kind of situation I'm in.

  
"Lance?" I question my eyesight. My voice is hoarse and bare and all I desire is water, but I feel far too tired to move any muscle of my body. I'd much rather dehydrate than move at this point.

  
"Yeah, man. The one and only." His response is marbled and laced with concern and confusion that I can't quite explain even if I tried. I'm not sure how to feel about it either.

  
"What happened?" I mumbled out at a low voice as I feared if I tried any louder I'd feel the sharp knives of my words slice against the flesh of my throat and lungs.

  
"That's what I was hoping you could tell me." Lance scoffs playfully, "I come in here to get you for dinner only to see you getting your ass beat by a gladiator."

  
"Oh." Is all I can respond with. I'm not entirely sure that I processed Lance's words or what part they played in to my circumstances, but the wave of relief that is followed by the lack of pain is something I'm grateful for.

  
From all that's happened I finally come to the realization of how _exhausted_ I am. My eyes begin to drip lightly as everything is calm against my wind. I feel an overwhelming feeling of contentment that writes promises along side rest. I can't help but give in.

  
"Hey? Keith? Stay awake, man." I hear Lance's voice but don't open my eyes to see him. It's not worth the effort.

  
I hum a response as I drift off in to a soft slumber rocked by the muffled yells from Lance towards God knows where and melody that plays in my head.

  
_"Sing of the moon as it sometimes gets shy."_

* * *

 

  
_"Running from lovers through starry eyed skies."_

  
I know I'm starting to come to but I can't exactly comprehend where from. It's not that I've forgotten but it's not that I remember either. It's a weird state to be in if I say so myself. I'm simply existing. I am a hallow shell of a being with no purpose and no knowledge of senses. It's something I don't wish to get used to.

  
_"Morning comes quick bringing tragic goodbyes."_

  
I know there are voices speaking around me and I desire to pin point exactly who they are, but my mind isn't agreeing with my desires. Then again, when did it ever? I want to move but the weight of my limps are far too heavy and I give up before I even try. I've been giving up far too much recently. How weak I've grown.

  
_"Nothing ever really dies, right?"_

  
I somehow find the strength and will to open my eyes. I take all the time I need to adjust to the light in the room, which ends up being dim at most. My body is sensitive, _everything_ is and I'm not fond of it. I don't think anyone would be, so my thoughts are justified.

  
I roll my eyes to land on the voices and figures. At first they are just a blur of colors and mesh of words, but after adjustments I come to distinguish every single one of them out. Name and meaning and all.

  
"-not gonna want to and you know that." I can hear Shiro insist through a whisper in their small confidential circle. Who wasn't going to want to do what?

  
"He's gonna have to, because it's _not_ Ok." Lance argues with Shiro. I just want to be apart of their conversation. I'm sure whomever we are talking about and whatever the circumstances are I can take part in. I'm sure I could help. But my body isn't working in my favor and nothing but my eyes decide to move.

  
"I know, just let me talk to him one-on-one and then we can see where we'll go from there." I hear Shiro suggest. I want to be apart of this. I _need_ to be apart of this. I am so helpless and useless in this bed. They must think so little of me.

  
"Mmmh." I groan out despite my intentions. It was all I could do.

  
I watch their attention turn towards me. All pairs of eyes are on me and suddenly I wish I hadn't made a sound at all. Shiro turns back and whispers something to them that I can't catch before walking over to me as they walk away.

  
The way he presents himself is so gentle and kind, almost cautious. He mindlessly grabs a chair and maneuvers it beside the medical bed I'm in. He takes a soft seat and looks at me with those sad eyes.

  
"Hey, buddy." His voice is so soft I can't even find the room to be worried, "How are you feeling?"

  
"Like shit." I mumble out with what strength I'm beginning to muster.

  
"Yeah," Shiro chuckles, "that'd be expected. You really overworked you body, Keith. You've been out a couple hours." Shiro's presentation turns solemn and I'm not fond of it.

  
"'m sorry." I respond with an empty tone and I stare up at the ceiling before closing my eyes, not for sleep but for avoidance of Shiro's reactions, he knows this.

  
"It's fine, bud. It's fine." Shiro rambles quickly and I just hum a response, "Hey, can we talk about something?"

  
I open my eyes and quickly look to him with furrowed brows to get some sort of idea as to what kind of conversation this was going to be and the best way to ignore it.

  
"What?" I question rather than respond.

  
"We had to change you in to a med suit." Shiro announces and I immediately know what kind of conversation this is going to be and I don't want to have it, "I thought you said you weren't doing it anymore." Shiro reminds me as he looks down at his hands, rubbing them against each other. He references to the one thing he knows I don't want to talk about. God, I don't want to talk about it. I swallow a lump in my throat, not entirely sure how to go about this conversation and losing all the words I thought I once had.

  
"I'm not. It was just one time-" I begin to plead against my will because I can't stand disappointing Shiro.

  
"What I saw did _not_ look like just one time." Shiro clarifies before looking up at me.

  
"Do the others know." I stare blankly at the ceiling as I rest, avoiding Shiro's declaration.

  
"Of course they do." Shiro responds simply. I sigh with annoyance, "They just want to help, Keith. Everyone does."

  
"I don't need help." I mutter stubbornly. I know I need help but I simply don't want it. I have this problem with pride. I can never find the dividing line between pride and reason.

  
Shiro sighs and I know he's given up on the conversation, "Get some rest, buddy."

  
He pats my leg before walking off. I watch him leave the room and ultimately me behind. I was to spend the next few hours worrying and stressing about what this all means and how I'm going to get out of it, but an overwhelming wave of exhaustion washes over me before I drift off in to a deep sleep with the same bitter sweet melody.

  
_"Someone's lighting candles all over my floor."_

* * *

 

  
_"And placed 'holy's of holy's' through every door."_

  
I'm not entirely sure where I am or where I've been or what I am, but one thing is clear; I am _very_ small. 8 figures are towering over me in a circle and I've never felt completely and utterly insignificant in my entire life. They're simply shadows at first but they slowly come in to view as everyone I've come to love. Mom, Dad, Allura, Coran, Shiro, Lance, Pidge, and Hunk. They're all towered over me and they don't seem pleased. Their arms are crossed and brows furrowed in anger. I don't know exactly what I did but I feel ashamed anyways.

  
_"But who are our doubts said to?"_

  
Slowly, one by one they shake their heads at me and walk away. I want to plead with them and yell and scream at them to come back because I can't handle any more people leaving in my life, I just _can't_. It didn't matter what I wanted because my voice wouldn't work. I could open my mouth but nothing would come out. All I could so was watch as everyone I cared for walked away from me and left me in solitude.

  
_"Some half of the evening knew, of listening ears long withdrew?"_

  
I abruptly awake in my bed and jerk myself forward so I'm sitting up. My breathing is almost as labored as when Lance found me in the training room and my body is covered in disgusting sweat. I know my eyes are shot open wide but I don't know why and I can't get myself to stop.

  
My door opens up with an electric wash and someone comes running in as the door closes behind them. I don't actually know who it is until I see Lance kneeling at the side of my bed and I turn to look at him.

  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, hey, hey." He tries grabbing my attention and I know he has it but I'm not sure I can process anything right now, "We need to stop meeting like this." He chuckles. Leave it to Lance to make light of a dark situation.

  
"What...?" I look around my room and become confused. Last I remember I was in the med bay and now I'm here. Not to mention, why was Lance so quick to get to me? Nothing made sense.

  
"Your in your bed, everything's fine. We just moved you so you'd be more comfortable. Nothing's wrong." Lance assured me gently.

  
"How'd you...?" I point from Lance to the door but don't bother finishing my sentence as I'm still trying to catch my breath.

  
"We were taking shifts to watch you until you woke up. Guess we don't gave to do shifts anymore." Lance chuckles once again.

  
"I'm not a _child_. I don't need a babysitter." I protest their actions.

  
"We're not babysitting. We're _caring_. There's a difference." Lance corrects me and I hate how nice he's being to me. The way he treats me isn't necessarily bad, but it doesn't make me feel good either. I like the fact that his attitude seems to remind me that I am in fact _not_ the person I want to be. Perhaps that's validating that I'm a bad person or pushing me to try harder, it all depends.

  
"Well, I'm fine now. So you can leave." I insist with my breath fully caught. I go back to laying down on the bed with my back facing Lance but my eyes still wide open and my ears listening. He doesn't leave and a good intermission of silence fills the air for a tad bit longer than comfortable.

  
Lance took a breath before speaking, "Shiro said you've been doing it for a while but you had stopped." Lance goes straight in to the conversation, addressing the elephant in the room. He's simply clarifying what I already know, I don't need him to remind me, "When did you start doing it again?"

  
I freeze only slightly at the question. He's actually trying to have a serious conversation. This must really mean something to him in some way if he wants to have a conversation with _me_. He gives me a good amount of time to think about my actions before following through with them because Lord knows I should do that more often.

  
"Kerberos." It's a simple word but I know Lance will get the gist of it. I don't turn around to face him like a respectful person should in a conversation, especially one this serious. I just don't want to see his expressions. I don't want this to be true.

  
"When did you last do it?" He asks and then allows for me to think once again before speaking.

  
"Couple weeks ago." I mumble slightly, only half regretting opening up to him the moment I do.

  
"Why didn't you tell any of us?" I can hear the confusion and disappointment in his voice, but it feels different this time. It's not directed towards me more than himself and I'm not sure how to go about that.

  
"Why would I want to?" I question his question because it truly didn't make sense. If I wanted to hurt myself why would I tell someone and know they'd try to stop me? It didn't make sense.

  
"Because you shouldn't be doing it." He argues with me.

  
"Oh yeah? Well Zarkon shouldn't be an asshole but he is. Sometimes what's right isn't what we get." I argue back. I know it's a slight bit harsher than intended. I really should have thought this through before speaking. That's a skill I'm gonna have to work on quite a bit.

  
"We care, Keith. _I care._ " Lance insists and it scares me to know that I somehow believed him.

  
"You shouldn't." I quickly reply with a somber mumble.

  
"I think you're starting to get my perspective." I can hear him smile throughout his voice and I can't stay mad any longer. I scoff lightly and shake my head kindly.

  
"I gotcha, Lance. I gotcha." I scoff through my tone. I don't have to turn around to see the smile on his face and this feeling in the pit of my stomach plays the same melody but of a higher key.

  
_"So we sing of the moon and the face that it hides."_

  
"I'll let you get some rest or whatever you need before getting the others." Lance clarifies, signally that the conversation is over. Only moments ago I was no where near exhaustion but the calmness this boy had put on my mind is soothing me to tired eyes.

  
_"Shining just half of its truth to our skies."_

  
"See ya, Mullet."

  
_"But bring me the sun that gives it all its light."_

  
"Goodbye, Lance."

  
_"I don't want to just wait to die."_

  
Perhaps my life is not my own and perhaps that meant more than it led on to be, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let it control my life as a whole. This is my life, not someone else's. Not everything is in my control but what is I'll cherish to the best of my ability. I'm gonna climb as far as I can up that ladder and if I fall so be it. At least I know there will be arms to catch me.

  
_"Alright."_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! I have a lovely time writing this. Please leave a comment of your thoughts and a kudos as well. Suggestions are also nice.
> 
> The son included:  
> "Sing Of The Moon" -The Collection


End file.
